Not All Who Wander
by Gay Jesus Probably
Summary: The less chaotic moments of Ford's travels between dimensions during those 30 years he was gone. T for swearing. Discontinued.


**AN: Not ever dimension is a nightmare. The calmer moments of thirty years of wandering through the multiverse.**

 **For the record, my personal theory is that after pulled in to the portal, Ford was randomly warped around dimensions, switching dimensions roughly every three days, and activating the portal again in Not What He Seems just acted like a homing beacon, tugging him back to where he belonged and grounding him there. So, according to my calculator app, that's 121.7 dimensions a year. That's 3651 dimensions in total over the 30 years he was in there, give or take a few dozen for months and all. I refuse to believe that every single one of them was a horrifying madhouse. So, this is fic is dedicated to poor Ford getting a fuckin' break for once. There's a few crossovers, but none that should be overly jarring to people that aren't familiar with the source.**

 **If my numbers are off, my only excuse is that I failed math and would like to not be judged.**

 **Also, plese note that when I say these are the calmer moments, I mean it's the moments where there's no external danger, and he can drop his guard. Not that these are moments when he's happy with himself and his life. So things get dark in Ford's head sometimes. Just a heads up.**

 **Only pairing is past Bill/Ford, and poor Ford working through all the emotional abuse and gaslighting from it.**

 **Enjoy!**

Not All Who Wander

Part 1

 **Mid Year One**

The first few dimensions were the worst.

For a man who dedicated his life to studying the unknown, finding the laws of reality changed every few days was difficult to adjust to, every new dimension having new rules he needed to adapt to on the fly, or face death. Or worse.

Good thing he was already massively paranoid.

…Not a sentence one thought often.

After a couple dozen dimensions, Ford started to get his bearings easier, handle the unpredictability better. A few times, he caught himself reaching for a journal he no longer had to write down facts about dimensions he would never be able to find again. Damn muscle memory.

Dimension number 52 was… different.

For starters, when the gut-wrenching feeling of teleporting faded, he found that his knees had hit pavement, which was warm beneath his hands. The area was bathed in a soft, orange light, and everything was… Peaceful. For a very long moment, he stayed on the ground, feeling the sun, the fresh breeze, and the overwhelming aura of safety that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Finally, he released a long, shuddering breath, and got to his feet.

He seemed to be in a town, around sunset. The street was deserted, and nobody seemed to have noticed his unusual entrance to the area. The area he was in looked to be a side street at best anyways. Still, it was clean and nice, and the most normal thing he'd seen in a long time. If Ford was tearing up a little, well, that was between him and his feelings.

He could see what looked to be a clock tower, not far away. From up there, Ford would easily be able to scope out the area, and get a lay for the land.

Automatically running a hand along his meager weaponry to ensure it was still there, he headed off.

The journey proved to be as quiet as the rest of the town. It would have gotten a little eerie, if he hadn't had to duck in to an alleyway to avoid a pair of kids running past, both of whom seemed human and normal. So, nothing immediately suspicious about the place, just a sleepy town around sunset, in what appeared to be summer.

It took him about 45 minutes to reach the clocktowers top, at which point he realized that yeah, the sun probably should have gone down a little more before then. Perhaps the sunsets lasted especially long there? It was a thought worth considering.

It wasn't anything overly exciting, just a peaceful town surrounded by forest, what looked to be a mansion out a ways, and train tracks around. It was the most amazing thing Stanford had ever seen.

God, maybe there was a hotel. Maybe he could sleep in a real bed!

Before he could get too excited over that fact, there was the sound of footsteps, and around the corner came a young man, looking to be in his early to mid-twenties, with a ridiculously impressive hairstyle, bright red and insanely spiky, as well as a long, black coat, and tattoos under his eyes.

"Um." The man said, summing up the awkward situation. "Sorry man, didn't notice someone else up here…"

"Er, no problem, I'll get out of your way in a minute. Uh, I don't suppose you could tell me where I am?"

The man's eyebrows raised.

"You're on top of the clock tower."

"…I do realize that. Be a bit less specific."

The eyebrows went even further up.

"This is Twilight Town. Are you okay?"

"I'm- um- Fine, I'm fine. Just… been traveling for a long time, that's all."

The man's eyebrows lowered back to a normal position, as he carelessly flopped down on the ledge, swinging his feet out over the edge without a trace of fear.

"Yeah, I know that feeling. You look like you've seen some shit. Hey, I was supposed to meet someone up here, but it looks like my douche of a friend has ditched me… _again_. You want this? Fuck knows I can't eat two."

To Ford's surprise, the redhead was offering what looked to be an ice cream bar, light blue in colour, still in its wrapper. Another one was in his free hand, clearly meant for himself.

Part of his brain exploded in to a heavenly chorus of pure joy over the offer of _real food sweet fuck after so long_. The paranoid part of his brain promptly burst in, and began chasing the heavenly chorus with a broom, lecturing about the dangers of unfamiliar food and unsavoury strangers, and _it could be fucking poisoned, that package means nothing for safety_.

The two parts of his brain wrestled for a while over the metaphorical broom, paranoia engaged in an epic battle with ice cream.

"…Dude? You okay? It's sea salt flavour, it's good."

Ice cream won.

Ford took the bar, and sat down with the man, unwrapping it, and digging in, the taste of sweet ice cream honestly being the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

"Thanks. I'm Ford."

"I'm Axel. So, what brings you here?"

"That's… a very long story."

Axel rolled up his coat sleeve to check a watch, before shrugging.

"Eh, I got time if you want to spill. Trust me when I say, regardless of how fucked up the story is, I've probably been through weirder shit."

Ford laughed, slightly bitter.

"My own twin brother shoved me in to an interdimensional portal, and now I'm randomly teleporting between universes roughly every three days with no control over it, and no possible way to return home."

Axel paused for a moment, obviously slightly surprised, before recovering.

"Least yours still exists. My home world got overrun by creatures of darkness, which, by the way, fucking murdered me in the process. Then I wake up, find out that yeah by the way I don't fucking exist anymore – don't ask me how that works, I'm not a scientist. So now I am literally an emotionless monster. I've fuckin' been there dude."

Ford was equally thrown.

"How- what? You don't exist? How the hell does that make sense? Damn, this is going to be bothering me for months now, I can tell."

Axel laughed. There wasn't much humour in it, although it didn't seem like he was doing it on purpose. Ford remembered that he probably should have paid a bit more attention to the 'emotionless monster' part of the short rant. The paranoia part of his mind ripped out its metaphorical hair.

A bit of somewhat stilted conversation later, and Ford got the hell out of dodge. He didn't see Axel again, a fact which he was grateful for, and helped keep his paranoia slightly at bay.

Still, when the familiar tug came a few days later, and the world melted away around him, he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for bolting from the situation. The man had a shattered look to him, like he was ready to break down at any second. Ford recognized that look, considering he'd worn it himself a lot after realizing Cipher's betrayal of him.

A new dimension spread out in front of him, and he put his mind back on task. Looked like a dangerous one, and definitely not the best place to be thinking about Cipher. Time to figure out dimension 53.

 **Late Year Two**

Dimension two hundred and three.

Needless to say, Stanford Pines was getting pretty sick of dimension hopping.

At least he'd mastered the art of landing on his feet, giving him a few extra precious seconds to get oriented upon arrival.

This time, it seemed to be a seedy black market area, a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Still, nobody had noticed his impromptu entrance this time, and the crowd seemed to be of mixed species, so he stepped out on to the street, and went out to explore the area.

It went well, with the only hitch being him bumping in to an old man with blue hair, who gave him a dirty look, and told him to fuck off, with a teenage boy trailing behind the man apologizing before the pair were swept away in the crowd. Ford brushed it off. It seemed rudeness really was universal.

On a vague hope of finding some more supplies, which were always something he needed, he ducked in to a random store, figuring that worse come to worse, he could just pocket any needed supplies right before he was due to warp again.

The store was empty, and seemed to be some sort of a pawn shop. A woman behind the counter watched him browse through the objects, muttering to himself over unfamiliar ones. After about an hour of this, she called him over.

"Hey, dude. You gonna buy anything, or just here to go through all my shit?"

Ford flushed a little.

"N-no, I don't have any money, I'm just interested."

She squinted suspiciously.

"You some kind of scientist? Government?"

He snorted in reply.

"Hell no. Just a traveler."

Her suspicious squint stayed as she stared at him, long and hard, before nodding slowly, mouth set firmly.

"Mmmm. You don't look like you've got the fuzz tracking you. I know your type though. Eyes like those, you're a researcher alright. Not for the man though, just for yourself. I like that. Damn, shame you don't have seven fingers though. That's a good number. Always been good for me, seven has."

Ford realised that the woman might have been slightly crazy. It was showing.

"Come on man, I've got something back here you might be interested in. And the sooner I unload it, the sooner the government dogs stop watching me. The bastards stole my socks y'know. For all I know, they made a fuckin' clone out of the foot DNA on them. Wouldn't put it past those fuckers." She rambled, heading in to a back room while gesturing for him to follow. Out of lack of anything better to do, and honestly wanting to know where the hell this was going, he did.

A glance down showed that both of her lower legs were artificial, and the prosthetics were made of metal. He reaffirmed his opinion of her to 'definitely crazy'.

Then again, he didn't have much room to judge on that particular front. He'd spent a solid month holding lengthy conversations with the skeleton in his house before Stanley had arrived.

"Where the fuck did I put it… honestly, forget my own damn head next. Name's Adi by the way. Least, right now it is. Who knows tomorrow? The universe is a fuckin' weird place my friend. One day, you're going about your business as a normal person. Next thing you know, you're playing pass-the-potential-apocalypse and running from the fucking pigs. Ooh! Here it is!"

She dug a small plastic box out from a cluttered shelf, and opened it up. Inside of it was a dice, whose ridiculous amount of sides kept changing before his eyes.

Ford gaped for a long minute, suddenly struck with a homesick longing to be playing DD&MoreD back in college, or in Gravity Falls with Fiddleford, but quickly pushed the feeling aside, because _holy shit the dice was changing that was awesome._

Adi snapped the case closed, giving him a sharp grin.

"Pretty rad, right? Well, I wouldn't recommend rolling it, alright? Shit's an infinity dice. One roll, and literally anything could happen. The sky could rain monkeys. Your grandkids could be born purple. The apocalypse could begin. Or, you roll a one. Fuckin' anything. This bad boy is illegal literally everywhere. But I don't want it in government hands, you understand me? I want it in the hands of a good independent, like me. Someone that's already moving around. When you get sick of it, you just settle down and hand it off to the next worthy sucker. Way it is, way it always has been. Also, while you're at it, here, take this coat. Damn thing don't fit me, and you look like you'll need it." She finished, before handing him a long black coat, and pressing the box in to his hand, giving a sincere smile, which he returned.

"You take care, alright? Now shoo, I don't want anyone knowing you were here. Godspeed soldier!"

She shoved him briskly towards the door, and out of the shop, before hesitating once he was out the door.

"Hey… be careful who you trust. Not everyone's as nice as me. And… just watch out for triangles."

Before he could demand she follow up on the parting sentence, and find out if it meant what he thought it meant, the door slammed, and the sign switched to closed. Ford didn't bother banging on the door. He had the feeling it was the last he'd ever see of the strange woman.

He shrugged on his new coat, pocketed the infinity dice, and kept walking.

 **Mid Year Three**

Dimension three hundred started off peaceful.

That was usually a good sign. Peace, so far, was difficult to come by. And the first impressions of a dimension tended to be pretty accurate for the rest of it.

Also, there was something triumphant about hitting an even hundred. Something that just said 'fuck you multiverse, Stanford Pines is still going'. Good for morale.

Mind you, he was anticipating that in the future it would turn in to him being disinhearted with each hundred, and losing hope in a way out. But that was future Stanford's problem. He didn't want to get out anyways. Getting home again would tear his dimension apart, and give Bill exactly what he wanted, and that was the last thing Ford would allow. Out of sheer spite, if nothing else.

…Which really, probably said something about his mental state in of itself.

Anyways. Dimension 300 seemed to be just a nice, peaceful sunny beach, where the weirdest thing around was him in his heavy coat. That was something the beachgoers would have to deal with, as there were a lot of dimensions where having layers meant surviving. In this case, he'd just have to suck it up. Risking losing his coat to an unexpected dimensional switch was not something he was willing to do.

All that aside, he still managed to unwind, spending the first day lounging on the beach. This was his plan for the second day as well, before being ruined by a man coming up to him, and blocking the sun over him.

"Aw, geeze Rick…" A teenager said, in a slightly annoying voice. Annoying and… familiar?

Ford opened his eyes, to find a familiar blue haired old man giving him a suspicious glare.

"Who the fuck are you? I've seen you in multiple dimensions, what fucking gives? Are you government or something!?" The man demanded, obviously pissed. Unfortunately, Ford was out of fucks to give.

"Why do people keep assuming I'm government? Is it the glasses? Because I'm starting to feel kind of insulted by now."

The teenager relaxed, but the man kept glaring, pulling out a flask and taking a swig.

"Yeah, I'll believe that shit when I see it."

"Look, I don't know about you, but I'm just bouncing aimlessly around the dimensions. I literally have no control over it, it's fucking weird. I'll be out of here in probably about a day, and if we cross paths then, it's out of my hands."

There was a very long pause, as the blue haired man kept glaring at him, before giving an annoyed sigh.

"What's your home dimensions code?"

"…What?"

"Your home dimension. I've got a fucking portal gun, I'm sick of seeing the same random fucking dude all over the universe, I'm taking your ass home. Fucks sake."

Hope briefly swelled in Ford, before being promptly shot down.

"I don't know. Never got the chance to find out before I was sucked in to all… this."

"Ah, man, that really sucks." The teenager said, pulling out some vague sympathy. It went vaguely appreciated.

"Ah well, good deed of the day attempted. I call that a wrap. Morty! Let's go!"

And the two left.

Ford returned to his well-earned sunbathing.

 **Early Year Four**

Dimension three hundred and seventy nine.

God, Ford was getting tired.

By his estimates, it had been about four years since he'd been sucked in to the portal.

He missed his parents.

He missed Fiddleford.

He missed Shermie.

He missed Stanley.

And sometimes, when things were bleakest, and Stanford was at rock bottom, he almost missed Bill.

That was usually about when he paused, and gave himself a good slap to the face, because while there were a good many things about his life before that he should miss, that monster was not one of them. Because the blessed gift of hindsight had allowed him to realize that literally everything there had been a terrible situation, and getting out of it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Which didn't help the feelings that he still very definitely had about that fucking thing, feelings that _would not go away_. In normal terms, it was like a girl still pining over a guy that she had left for beating her. Completely ridiculous, made no sense, and yet. Here he was.

"Oh jesus christ, I was in an abusive relationship." He blurted out suddenly, eyes wide with realization.

This dimension was completely empty, just dark sand on a dark beach with a dark ocean spreading as far as the eye could see, only jagged rocks breaking up the view. As the only person on the small island he had ended up on, he had taken to talking to himself, as he usually did when he was alone in a dimension.

"Oh _jesus christ_ it took me _four fucking years_ to realize that!" He yelped, suddenly infuriated, as the pieces all fell in to place, and things suddenly started to make so much sense, and oh wow. He needed to sit down.

It was probably very convenient that he had that time to spend in an empty dimension, as there were a few undignified tears shed. Not that he'd ever admit that to anybody, mind you.

 **Late Year 5**

Stan was cracking.

Slowly, but surely, he was cracking, and honestly that scared him more than anything. But really, going through over two hundred dimensions of chaos would be enough to get to anybody, and frankly, he needed a fucking break ten dimensions ago or he was going to lose his shit.

Apparently, his insanity wasn't meant to happen yet, as the next dimension he landed in was wonderfully, blessedly _quiet_. He flung himself down on the grass and rolled around in it for a solid half hour, relishing the fact that all there was was him, the wind, the grass, and the sky. It was exactly what he had needed.

When the familiar tugging began three days later, signalling an imminent removal from the dimension, he almost cried in disapointment.

 **Mid Year 6**

Thank god, the next breather dimension didn't take as long to arrive. He was in his six hundredth and sixty seventh dimension, and by his records, he was working through year seven.

Sometimes, his fingers would brush the infinity dice's case in his pocket, and he would think about the crazy lady that had given it to him, and her mild obsession with seven's, and wonder if the government really had been after her, and if she was okay. Sometimes he would think about the red haired man who had offered him some kindness, despite not being able to feel to care about it. Sometimes he would think of the blue haired man that offered him a way out, and hadn't been able to get the information he needed to do that.

Sometimes he would think of Stanley, brand fresh on his shoulder, reaching out for him, and being just out of his grasp. Sometimes he would look at his hand, and his extra digit that didn't seem at all freakish as it used to, compared to all the madness he had seen. Sometimes he would think of Fiddleford, and the broken look that had been in his eyes after seeing what the purpose of their creation truly was.

Sometimes, he would think of Bill, his controlling words, and careful manipulations that he fell right in to. Sometimes, still, he would miss him. More times, he would hate him. Ford chose to count that as progress.

And sometimes, sometimes he would think about what he was fighting for. Fiddleford and Stanley would never be able to get the portal open, not with Fiddleford's madness, and Stanley missing the complete schematics. Stanley would never be insane enough to open it again.

Nobody was coming for him. Nobody was waiting for him

By now, he had probably been pronounced dead already. Who cared about him anymore?

There was nobody left for him.

During one of the nights in the breather dimension, a fitful sleep of dark dreams was interrupted by laughter, cold and familiar.

"Well, well, well. Look who came crawling back. I knew you'd come around sixer."

"Cipher." Ford snapped, with about as much malice as he could voice.

"Oh come now darling, I think we're at the point of first names, aren't we? Just think of all the experiences we've shared together! Before your partner cracked and you decided it was my fault. What made you think that anyways?"

Ford gaped for a moment, before his glare intensified.

"The portal. That you designed. Drove him insane. That was your fault. Don't try to push this off on me."

"Oh honey-"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

"Sheesh, you're so emotional sixer. See, this is why you should leave the heavy thinking to me. You're not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box anymore. You're a fucking bendy straw by now!"

"…Yeah, you don't get to talk about insanity. At all. Ever."

Another laugh, this one amused.

"Oh Fordsie, it's so cute how you think you're actually smart."

"Yes, I suppose I was just _imagining_ my genius level IQ. Stop trying to do this. It's not going to work."

"How many geniuses do you know are stupid enough to turn on their own dangerous invention, and get sucked through it, huh? …Though mind you, since we're talking about sucking-"

"GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD. I AM NOT GOING BACK TO YOU, I AM NOT MAKING A DEAL WITH YOU, AND YOU ARE NEVER GOING THROUGH ANY OF MY THOUGHTS EVER. AGAIN. UNDERSTOOD!?"

"A little late not to be thinking of me, isn't it Sixer? Anyways, I got better stuff to do then chat up one of my pawns. Just thought I'd swing by and see how you were doing. Think of it as a checkup! Aren't I nice? You really should start groveling right about now."

"Burn in hell."

"Already been! Fun place! But well, you'll see that eventually on your own. BYE!"

And with that, Bill was gone, Ford jolting awake the second he was released.

He spent a long night huddled in on himself, swearing and shivering. Needless to say, he didn't sleep anymore in that dimension.

But Bill's visit had done something for him.

It had given him a reason to keep going.

Staying alive out of sheer spite was still staying alive after all.

 **Late Year 7**

The next breather dimension was crowded, and seemed to be full of a fairly normal population, which was nice. The only downside was, this population seemed to be in the medieval era. Literally.

Also, a bit of snooping had made it clear that this was a version of earth where the Arthurian legends were an actual real thing, and okay yeah, Ford loved everything about the place. If he squealed in joy, that fact was being taken to his grave. Dimension 823 was officially the best dimension he had ever been in.

He spent some time doing an activity that most definitely was _not_ frolicking, before his out of place clothing and weapons got him arrested for sorcery. That fact that he had twelve fingers in total did nothing to help matters, beyond him finding that apparently, after everything that had happened, he was beyond giving a damn about people mocking his extra fingers. His body, he was fine with. That was new. Now, mentally and psychologically, he was fucked five ways to Sunday, but nobody really needed to know that tidbit.

Being on trial was cool. Seeing Prince Arthur, future King of Camelot was awesome. Seeing the almighty warlock Merlin working as his supposedly normal servant was the best thing that had ever happened to Ford. So, that evening, when the younger man ended up being the one to bring him his dinner, Ford thanked him politely, and wasn't overly surprised when the young man asked him about the weird clothes he was wearing.

Deciding hey, what the hell, when else would he get an opportunity to talk with goddamn _Merlin_ , he filled him in on the whole story, which he listened to with wide eyes.

"Wow." Merlin said, once the whole thing was finished. "I'm pretty sure you were lying, and that was still an amazing story. Although you do seem really unbothered for somebody that got sentenced to death."

Ford laughed.

"I told you, I'm bouncing wildly between dimensions. I'll be gone before anyone can lay a hand on me. Besides, why would I be scared? This is the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

That earned him a very strange look, for obvious reasons.

"Being sentenced to death… Is the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"Not that. Well, little bit that, but I'm in Camelot! I grew up reading stories about this! The stories about King Arthur are literally the sort of thing I've been obsessing over since I was a kid! If I die, this is absolutely worth it!"

Merlin laughed, although he still clearly thought Ford was batshit insane. That was fine though, because Stanford Pines was talking to the great wizard Merlin!

Everything was great.

…Maybe there was a dimension somewhere where Batman was real?

God he hoped there was. And he ended up there. And saw Batman. One could only hope.

Maybe this whole multiverse thing had an upside after all.

He was woken up in the middle of the night by the now routine interdimensional tug, and the world slipping away. He really wished he could have said goodbye to Merlin before he left, but random interdimensional teleportation wouldn't be nearly as obnoxious if it was willing to be convenient for him, now would it.

Well. Onwards to Batman.

Hopefully.

 **Early Year 8**

Dimension 881 had fucking BATMAN.

This was the best day of Ford's life. Ever.

Even though the interdimensional teleportation nonsense had landed him in the middle of what seemed to be the justice league. And they seemed slightly pissed about that fact. But who gives a shit, because BATMAN!

"How did you get here?" The man in question demanded.

"Interdimensional fuckery. I'll be out of your hair soon. I love you. That was out loud. Shit. God damn it. Fuck."

There were a few snickers around the team. Batman looked less happy, if that was possible. Unfortunately for the man in question, after one faces down an enraged Bill Cipher, it's really hard to get scared by anything else. Angry Batman's included.

"Why can't I scan your mind?" Martian Manhunter asked, giving him an inscrutable look.

"Uh… had some… issues with a mind reader, had to go to drastic measures to keep him out. Probably for the best, I don't think the stuff in my head's safe to view anymore. Interdimensional fuckery and all."

"Define drastic measures." Wonder Woman cut in, looking curious.

In response, Ford reached up and banged on the metal plate, relishing in the shocked reactions. Almost made it worth it, although in hindsight the entire thing had been the result of paranoia, and a really impressive mental breakdown. It probably said something about him that he was saner after embarking on his unwanted trip through dimensions.

"How. How did you even find a doctor to do that." Flash deadpanned.

"…Medical textbooks, general anesthesia, and some strategically placed mirrors."

"Holy fuck you're completely insane."

"No. No no no, I WAS completely insane. I got better after the plate came in so my head wasn't being quite so fucked with. Now I'm just a bit crazy. Also, why are we talking about this?"

"…Honestly, I don't really remember."

"Well shit."

And that's about when they threw him in a cell. He probably deserved it.

Eh, at least he saw Batman.

And he had thankfully teleported in the good guys lair, so there wasn't even any torture during the hang time before he was teleported out again. He even got an actual doctor to check out his amateur brain surgery, and ensure that he hasn't done any damage, as well as smack him around the head and order him to never do that again. Deadpanning that he's not exactly going to _need_ to do it again earns him another smack around the head.

Ford stopped snarking at the doctor after that. Fuck knows he took enough injuries normally, no need to gather any more.

 **Late Year 9**

There was another long gap between resting dimensions.

Admittedly, Ford realized that most of it was just random chance. There was no telling when he'd reach somewhere peaceful. His thousandth dimension came and went without anything overly interesting, just the usual running and fighting for his life.

Year 9 came and went. There was no reprieve.

Ford was tired.

 **Late Year 10**

Ford had been stuck between dimensions for over a decade now.

At least he couldn't forget what Stanley looked like.

 **AN: So the ending was a little depressing. Um, decided to break this up in to three parts, a decade for each part. Obviously, the last one will be a happy ending. Jury's still out on part two.**

 **Okay so like I wrote this originally to be a cheerful one shot of Ford getting cheered up while fucking around between dimensions, but it kind of got away from me.**

 **Wasn't going to put Bill in but I did and I regret nothing.**

 **In order, the crossovers Ford passed through:**

 **Dimension 52: Kingdom Hearts**

 **Dimension 300: Rick and Morty (not the dimension, but the people he met)**

 **Dimension 823: Merlin**

 **Dimension 881: Basically whatever DC verse you want it to be**

 **I dunno if Batman was around for Ford to appreciate, but hey. I'm the author, I can pull stuff out of my ass if I want to.**

 **Seriously please inform me if something doesn't make sense here because I'm rounding like hour thirty without sleep and it's making me slightly loopy, and it's a little hard to tell if I made sense here or not. God bless sleep deprived writing surges.**


End file.
